 | Poems |  |
77
LINES TO A MOCKING BIRD.
Sing, sweet bird,
Thy melody is sweet,
Chant now thy summer song,
For summer days are fleet.
But while the earth holds gladsome summer yet,
From early morn to peaceful twilight dim,
Till God doth bid the burning sun to set,
Heard thou art chanting praises unto him.
Thy melody is sweet,
Chant now thy summer song,
For summer days are fleet.
But while the earth holds gladsome summer yet,
From early morn to peaceful twilight dim,
Till God doth bid the burning sun to set,
Heard thou art chanting praises unto him.
Sing, sweet bird,
Sing all the summer long,
There is a gladsome joy,
A soothing in thy song.
O! for a life like thine—one free from care,
In dewy fields or clover wet with rain
Or in some blissful spot as there
I'd dwell unknown to human ache and pain.
Sing all the summer long,
There is a gladsome joy,
A soothing in thy song.
O! for a life like thine—one free from care,
In dewy fields or clover wet with rain
Or in some blissful spot as there
I'd dwell unknown to human ache and pain.
Sing, sweet bird,
Mid clover, grasses green;
Soon pansies and the rose
Can nowhere here be seen.
And then away unto the far off south
Thou wilt wing thy self in flight
And leave me but to hear from human mouth
A ceaseless groan and fret from morn till night.
Mid clover, grasses green;
Soon pansies and the rose
Can nowhere here be seen.
And then away unto the far off south
Thou wilt wing thy self in flight
And leave me but to hear from human mouth
A ceaseless groan and fret from morn till night.
Sing, sweet bird,
With mirth and gladness vie,
While flowers blush and bloom
And summer breezes sigh.
O! could I sing for man in bowers green
Sweet songs as thou, and soothe his aching breast,
I'd gladly sing and pass away unseen
To some Elysian fields of peace and rest.
With mirth and gladness vie,
While flowers blush and bloom
And summer breezes sigh.
78
Sweet songs as thou, and soothe his aching breast,
I'd gladly sing and pass away unseen
To some Elysian fields of peace and rest.
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